


Hazy Shades of Winter

by qianwanshi



Series: Immortals [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fate, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qianwanshi/pseuds/qianwanshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Living forever with no one would be worse than dying with someone you love, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“What about living forever with someone you love?” Junmyeon asks.</p>
<p>Jongdae snorts which makes him cough several times. “A happy ending?” He shakes his head. “They will both die.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazy Shades of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> More for the immortals au! I'm really happy to be back in this world, I love it a lot.  
> I have [ask fm](http://ask.fm/qianwanshi) now too! if you wanna chat about anything at all it would be really cool. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who helped me with this, Hannah, Laura, Cait. love you boogers.

“You seem thinner,” Junmyeon says softly as he wraps himself around Jongdae from behind. The angle is a bit awkward with Jongdae seated, but he manages to wrap around his shoulders happily.

Jongdae _had_ been staring at scripts on his desk, endless revisions and additions taking all of his attention lately, but when Junmyeon wraps warmly around him he closes his eyes and leans back into his arms. It’s late, the sun gone down hours ago. Junmyeon had helpfully lit a few candles around his desk when Jongdae showed no signs of retiring from his work with the sun.

“You look tired, too,” Junmyeon continues. He bends and presses several short kisses against the top of his head. “You can’t let them work you to death.”

Jongdae smiles softly, grabs one of Junmyeon’s hands and holds him close.

“It’s just getting close to my deadline again, I want it to be right,” he explains for the tenth time in a week. “I’m fine.”

“All the same,” Junmyeon presses on. “Tomorrow night, you’re mine. No work. I’m taking you to dinner.” Jongdae starts to protest again but Junmyeon pinches his stomach lightly. “You need to eat, you feel too small this way.”

Jongdae nods eventually. “Dinner sounds nice, actually. But I’m honestly fine, really, it’s simply stress from work.”

“Mm,” Junmyeon hums in agreement. “I know, but I’ve heard rumor of more cases of that White Plague appearing. You need to keep your strength up.”

Turning in his seat to give Junmyeon a disbelieving look, Jongdae cracks a small smile. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “You worry too much about me, you know that?”

Junmyeon shrugs. “It’s what I do,” he says simply.

Standing from his seat finally, Jondgae turns to wrap his arms around Junmyeon’s shoulders. He presses a firm, short kiss to Junmyeon’s lips. “What about tonight?” he asks. “Are you staying?”

“I can’t tonight,” Junmyeon says, like it causes him physical pain to say it. “I wish I could.”

“That’s okay,” Jongdae says with a little smile. “Tomorrow night, absolutely.”

He steps away and Junmyeon moves to retrieve his overcoat, worn looking and outdated. “I still don’t know why you refuse to buy a proper evening cloak,” Jongdae says, making a face at Junmyeon. “That thing is so _old_. I know you can afford one.”

“I like this one,” Junmyeon says as he straightens his sleeves. “It belonged to my grandfather, he was a good man.”

“It makes you _look_ like a grandfather,” Jongdae teases. “It’s 1837. I think you need to update your look a bit.”

Junmyeon shakes his head but smiles softly. “I think I look perfectly fine.” He moves forward again to press a final farewell kiss to the corner of Jongdae’s mouth. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening to fetch you.”

“I’ll see you then,” Jongdae says, voice quiet but happy.

“Please do get some sleep tonight, Jongdae.” Junmyeon brings his hand to Jongdae’s face, thumb swiping gently along a defined cheekbone. “I don’t like these bruises under your eyes.”

Jongdae nods, leaning slightly into Junmyeon’s hand. “I will, of course.”

They kiss once more and Junmyeon turns to leave with a quiet ‘ _good night_ ’, shutting the front door to Jongdae’s fairly small apartment behind him. He walks slowly, making sure he’s all the way down the hall and around the bend before he teleports away, reappearing in an instant in his own house, far away from anywhere Jongdae could ever know of.

———

Entering the wide study he uses for guests, Junmyeon is unsurprised to find Jongin already there and waiting for him, looking anxious.

“Hello, Jongin,” he greets pleasantly. “I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

Jongin smiles when he sees him, straightening in his seat. “Not long at all. You were with Jongdae again, I assume?”

Junmyeon almost tries to deny it but stops himself to nod silently.

“It’s been, what, just over a year for you?” Jongin asks.

“Ah, yes, actually,” Junmyeon replies softly. He clears his throat and straightens a few papers on his desk before waving one hand in the air between them. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t call me here to talk about Jongdae. What did you need?”

“Oh.” Jongin shifts in his seat a bit. “Well I actually also - you remember Sehun, the human I met quite recently, yes?”

Junmyeon nods, familiar with the name as well as Jongin’s complete infatuation.

“You have a bit more experience here, obviously, so I just--” Jongin cuts off nervously. “I wonder--”

“Just say it, Jongin,” Junmyeon encourages, not irritated but pressing.

“How did you approach the truth with Jongdae?” he asks finally. “I mean, how did you tell him about what you are? How did he take it?”

Junmyeon falls back in his seat, a little surprised by the question. “I… haven’t approached the subject with Jongdae, actually,” he says slowly. He pushes on when Jongin looks at him, shocked. “I obviously plan to, eventually. I’m just. Waiting for the right time.”

“I see…” Jongin looks somewhat disappointed at that.

“You want to tell Sehun?” Junmyeon asks, surprised at how soon he seems to be ready. Sehun had first appeared half a year ago as a topic of interest for Jongin, and the two had finally become inseparable several months ago. It isn’t a lot of time, truth be told.

Jongin nods shortly. “I hope to tell him soon, but fear that it could go badly.”

Junmyeon hums in understanding, thinking to himself for a moment. “And why tell him so suddenly?”

“Ah, well.” Jongin looks somewhat embarrassed, one finger rubbing behind his ear. “I’ve recently heard of some upcoming changes in position, nothing official yet, but if I got there early enough I could maybe fit Sehun in somewhere…”

Understanding lights up on Junmyeon’s face. “You want him immortal too.”

Jongin nods, still looking somewhat embarrassed. “I know it’s not exactly standard practice for us, but would it be so bad? I would train him, he would work just like anyone else who got put into the position. I’m not selfish enough to suggest it if I didn’t think he would work.”

Junmyeon holds a hand up, stopping Jongin’s nervous babbling. “It’s entirely up to you when and how you tell him.” Jongin nods once. “As for these upcoming changes… I’ll look into it. You’re a good friend, Jongin, I could put a word in somewhere.”

Looking both relieved and overjoyed, Jongin stands and grabs one of Junmyeon’s hands into both of his. “This means so much to me, Junmyeon. Thank you.”

Junmyeon smiles back easily, standing and walking Jongin out of his office. “Good luck in telling him,” he says, watching Jongin walk away with almost a bounce in his step.

Sitting back down at his desk, Junmyeon rests back in his seat. He had, of course, dreamt before of how life would be if he could have Jongdae forever. But to actually formulate a plan and try to put it into action… It makes him think. Maybe Jongin’s idea could work for him as well.

———

Laying next to Jongdae in bed, both still undressed, too lazy to even think of finding bed clothes for themselves, Junmyeon sighs softly. 

Jongdae is on his side, head resting on Junmyeon’s bare chest, one finger trailing lightly across his skin in little zig zags and spirals. “What are you thinking so hard about?” Jongdae asks. “You’re too tense.”

“I’m just thinking.” Junmyeon’s voice is soft, one hand brushing across Jongdae’s shoulder blade.

“Mm,” Jongdae hums happily, stretching into the touch not unlike a cat. “Worrying again?” 

Junmyeon shakes his head against the pillow. “No, not really. Just wondering.”

“What about?” Jongdae presses on, shifting on Junmyeon so he’s looking at his face properly, chin digging sharply into his chest.

Hesitating for a moment, trying to find the right words, Junmyeon shifts. “If you could have this forever, would you want it?” he asks finally, quietly.

“This?” Jongdae asks. He’s always pressing Junmyeon to elaborate on things. Junmyeon insists it’s because Jongdae lives to pester him, while Jongdae argues that Junmyeon is simply too vague when he talks. It’s probably a bit of both.

“Us,” Junmyeon says. “Just like this. Forever and ever.”

Surprisingly, Jongdae seems to actually think about the suggestion. “Do you think it would get boring?” he asks after a moment, sliding his hand flat between his chin and Junmyeon’s chest.

Junmyeon shakes his head quickly. “I don’t think I could get bored of you even in a thousand years.”

“All of forever living with Kim Junmyeon…” Jongdae says slowly, twisting his face up in thought. “I could think of worse fates.”

He laughs when Junmyeon pokes his side a bit in retaliation, squirming away from him on his bed. He ends up next to Junmyeon rather than half on him, laying on his own pillow, better able to look at him.

“Would you still take me to dinner?” he asks, poking at Junmyeon’s arm. “Would you still worry and check on me and remind me to sleep and take care of me?”

Staring back at Jongdae with all the sincerity in the world, Junmyeon says, “yes, forever.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad.” Jongdae smiles, settling back into his pillow comfortably. “If you find some magical cure to mortality, you let me know.” He laughs to himself a bit, eyelids drooping.

Junmyeon laughs a bit too, forced and short, feeling a fool for missing possibly his best opportunity ever to be honest with Jongdae.

“I might steal that and write it,” Jongdae says, followed by a wide yawn. “It’s interesting. Living forever.”

“Just a thought,” Junmyeon repeats, almost a whisper.

Jongdae grunts, shifting in bed so he’s a bit closer again to Junmyeon. He wraps an arm around his middle. “If you wake up first, stay in bed,” he mumbles into Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Hate waking up alone.”

———

Junmyeon wakes up the next morning to a loud bang and a curse, blinking his eyes open slowly. The bed next to him is empty and cold, sheet tossed aside as if in a rush. Sitting up a bit, Junmyeon finally finds Jongdae standing at the foot of the bed trying to pull on a shirt and trousers at the same time.

Jongdae’s head finally pops through the opening in the shirt and he looks pained, rubbing the elbow he must have bumped on his desk. He catches sight of Junmyeon almost immediately.

“You’re awake!” He shuffles toward Junmyeon’s side of the bed, fastening his pants quickly, not bothering to stuff his shirt into the waistband. He leans in for a quick kiss and runs a hand over Junmyeon’s fairly short hair. “I forgot the date, I have to run some of my revisions into the office, I’m so sorry.”

Smiling softly, still half asleep, Junmyeon shakes his head. “It’s work, I know how it is,” he says. 

Jongdae looks him up and down, all rumpled from sleep with the bed sheet barely covering him anymore. He looks like he would give anything to jump right back into bed and stay there all day rather than run anywhere for his work. Junmyeon knows the feeling.

“You stay right here and don’t move an inch,” Jongdae says, shuffling back to his desk to grab piles of his papers. “I want you _right there_ when I get back.”

Junmyeon falls back into the bed immediately, resting on his own and Jongdae’s pillow as he watches him rush to find his shoes.

“I won’t be long at all, I swear,” he continues.

Junmyeon laughs. “I’m not going anywhere. Turn in your revisions. Be safe.”

Giving Junmyeon a short look that screams ‘ _I’m only going to the office why are you so concerned about my being safe_ ’, Jongdae just settles on saying, “of course I will. I’ll return shortly.” He disappears a second later.

Settling comfortably in bed, Junmyeon waits patiently for Jongdae to run his errands. He knows that Jongdae will have more than an earful for him if he moves, especially if he were to dress himself, so he stays and grabs a book from Jongdae’s bedside table, flipping through the pages without really looking at the words. It looks like a book of poetry, lots of tiny notes scribbled by Jongdae in the margins.

The words in the book turn into nothing but wiggled waving lines in front of his eyes as he remembers the previous night.

He’d had the best opportunity in the world to finally be honest with Jongdae, but he let his fear continue to win and missed it. He wants to tell him so badly, but every time the words almost make it to his mouth, it’s like a thousand alarms start sounding in his head. ‘ _You’ll scare him away!_ ’ ‘ _He won’t believe you!_ ’ ‘ _Things are perfectly fine the way they are now._ ’

He knows it’s not all completely true, knows Jongdae much, much better than to think he would run screaming from him, but that fear still makes him freeze and the moment always passes him by, leaving the truth unsaid once again.

He doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep again until he jumps awake when he hears the click of the front door opening. 

Jongdae smiles at him from the doorway, his tiny apartment more like one room than any kind of house Junmyeon has ever seen. On a writer’s salary, though, it provides heat and shelter, so they like it just fine.

“Were my poems so dull they put you to sleep?” Jongdae asks, shutting the door and kicking his shoes off immediately. 

Confused, Junmyeon sits up in bed and the small book he’d picked up slides down his chest into his lap.

“Oh! No, no, of course - I just--” Junmyeon waves a hand around and rubs an eye. “You wrote this?” He settles on asking.

Jongdae nods, pulling both his overcoat and loose shirt off quickly. “I’m working on revising it, it’s quite old. Embarrassing, actually. I hope to republish.” He moves to his trousers next so he’s as bare as he’d been this morning, diving quickly back into bed.

He attaches himself to Junmyeon’s side in an instant, laughing loudly when Junmyeon jumps away from his frigid fingers and toes. 

“You are evil,” Junmyeon whines.

Pulling the blanket back up over their shoulders, Jongdae smiles again. “It’s getting colder out. It’ll snow soon, I bet.” He runs his hands over Junmyeon’s side and chest, warming them with his body heat.

Junmyeon continues to pout, mumbling quietly, “I didn’t move at all, as you said, and this is how you repay me.”

Kissing lightly along Junmyeon’s shoulder, Jongdae says quietly, teasing. “No.” He continues to kiss along Junmyeon’s neck and jaw, one hand trailing slowly down his chest and smooth, flat stomach. “This is how I repay you,” he adds, wrapping one soft hand around Junmyeon.

Junmyeon hums, pleased, when Jongdae’s kisses finally reach his lips. He shifts to give Jongdae more room, wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him close.

“Much nicer,” Junmyeon mumbles against Jongdae’s lips quietly, making him laugh again, softer.

———

Junmyeon sorts through the fresh papers on the wide desk in his private office in his house. Some are simple requests or notes left to be found upon his return. Many people know he spends much of his time with Jongdae, and leave notes with his assistant of sorts who knows to leave them where they will be seen.

One paper in particular stands out to him, stopping his sorting and dropping into his seat.

A list of scheduled upcoming position changes and a request for replacement recommendations if possible. This usually means someone else already in a lower position or an apprentice, but the form almost makes him dizzy at the possibilities.

Junmyeon is among some of the higher ranks within their business, having worked himself up from apprentice, through several lines of fate, and finally above even that to where he is now. He has seniority even over many of his current peers, being known to have studied with some of the greatest even as a mortal apprentice. He, and his opinions or suggestions, hold weight here.

He chews his lip thoughtfully, reviewing who would be retiring, unconsciously checking for a role that would best suit Jongdae.

Shaking his head suddenly, he drops the paperwork back onto his desktop. There’s plenty of time left until the deadline nears. Besides which, there needs to be an agreement from both parties to institute a change in position like that. Agreement that won’t be coming from Jongdae as long as he doesn’t even realize what Junmyeon is.

He moves the paper aside, into a drawer where it will be sure to not get lost. Keeping it safe in case he needs to revisit it later.

He continues to sort through his other papers quietly, trying not to daydream _too_ much about his past weekend with Jongdae. He had seemed much more relaxed than he had during the week before, a bit more rested, which had pleased Junmyeon endlessly. Their dinner had gone very well, but Junmyeon is determined even more so to make Jongdae regain what weight he had lost recently.

His thoughts about Jongdae and his health are interrupted by a light tapping on his door before it swings open.

“Sir,” Junmyeon’s quiet assistant pokes his head through the door. “Jongin is here to see you, shall I send him to your other office?”

“No, no,” Junmyeon shakes his head. “Just send him in here, thank you.”

His assistant backs out of the room, footsteps as soft as ever. The room remains silent for another extended moment before the door swings open again, much more widely than when it had been his assistant.

Jongin walks in, steps confident and easy as they always have been as long as Junmyeon has known him. His face, however, shows signs of stress. Lack of sleep.

“Jongin,” Junmyeon smiles. “Good to see you again. Tea?” Jongin silently shakes his head no and sits in the seat facing the desk.

“I told him,” Jongin says after a moment of tense silence, eyes losing focus briefly as if he’s remembering. “I told Sehun the truth.”

Junmyeon shifts in his seat, movements somewhat tense. “How did he react?”

“Not- not great?” Jongin starts, voice unsure. “At first. He worried about what it means. Worried someone who has been around for as long as I have couldn’t possibly have interest in someone so young.”

Junmyeon nods, encouraging Jongin silently to continue.

“The more I explained what I do, specifically. Why he’s so- so special. He came around to the idea,” Jongin says, still looking stressed. 

“You don’t seem very happy.” Junmyeon’s voice rises slightly. A question if Jongin wants to elaborate, a statement if he doesn’t.

“He refused me,” Jongin says, voice flat. “I told him I could- we could get him in too. He could join me. I thought he’d jump at the chance…”

Junmyeon swallows, feeling tense. “He said no?”

Jongin rubs both hands over his face, pushing his palms against his eyes. “Not exactly. He said he needs to think. Shouldn’t it be easy?”

Smiling a bit, Junmyeon relaxes a bit more in his seat. “You’ve been around long enough to think so, you forget what it means you have to leave behind. Give him his time to think.”

It’s with a heavy sigh that Jongin falls back in his seat as well. “I suppose you’re right. I was just hoping- ugh, never mind.” He looks back at Junmyeon properly. “I’ll give him his space.”

Junmyeon smiles across the desk at him with an encouraging little nod.

“Have you heard anything in regards to those position changes and openings?” Jongin asks, voice light, but curious.

“I, uh.” Junmyeon looks at the mess atop his desk, eyes passing over his drawer quickly. “I haven’t, yet. Though there’s so much here, who knows. I’ll call you when I have.”

“Of course.” Jongin smiles again. “You seem busy, I’m sorry to have burst in like this…”

“No! No bother.” Junmyeon’s voice is easy, happy. “You’re always welcome here, any time.”

Jongin stands, ready to leave. “I should go, still. I do hope to see Sehun this evening.”

Nodding quickly but not standing from his seat, Junmyeon motions to the piles of papers scattered over his desk. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t see you out?”

“Not at all.” Jongin almost laughs. “I can’t say I envy you when it comes to this.”

Junmyeon shrugs. “Everything has its good and bad points, I suppose.”

Nodding one final time, Jongin wishes Junmyeon luck on his work and exits the office, leaving Junmyeon to sit back in his desk chair and run a hand through his hair, stressed and confused.

Sehun hadn’t reacted positively to Jongin’s confession early on in their relationship. He can only imagine how displeased Jongdae will be to know that he’d held onto a major secret for over a year. He had also lied to his friend about what he knows of the position changes and he can’t even choose one reason why he did. There would have been no harm in telling him. But once again, when the words got to his mouth, something told him to hold onto it for a little while longer.

Maybe he was simply a coward, too scared to move in any direction because of the changes it may bring.

Unsure either way, Junmyeon continues to shuffle through his papers quietly, tossing many of the notes left for him into the trash more or less unread.

———

Jongdae pauses in his walk with Junmyeon, half bent over to cough loudly into his free hand, the other wrapped around Junmyeon’s bent elbow. They’d been out in the early evening, enjoying their bustling city, but the night grows colder and colder as they walk back toward Jongdae’s neighborhood, tiny snowflakes falling around them.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Junmyeon asks for what feels like the hundredth time recently. “You’ve had this cough for weeks now, I wish you’d see a doctor.”

Giving Junmyeon a sideways look, Jongdae stands against him again properly. “What good will a doctor do me for a simple cold?”

Junmyeon tries to interrupt, insisting as he has been constantly lately that it’s better to know for sure, but Jongdae doesn’t let him.

“Let it run its course,” he says, speaking louder to stop Junmyeon. “I’ll be fine in another week.”

They walk the rest of the way home in silence, Junmyeon holding Jongdae as close as possible the entire way.

———

A week comes and goes without Jongdae showing any signs of improvement. His rough, dry cough echoes in his apartment as he works at his desk and even interrupts his sleep some nights.

Interestingly, Junmyeon actually seems to lose more sleep over it all than Jongdae does. He fusses over Jongdae, making sure he’s dressed warmly, elevated in bed, eating properly. It’s a stressful time, but seemingly only for Junmyeon. Jongdae continues to work as he normally has, mostly unbothered by the cough that, by now, has the muscles in his chest and ribs rather sore. 

“It’s just a cold,” he repeats constantly. “It happens every year when the seasons change.”

One night, Junmyeon is pulling Jongdae away from his work to make him sleep while it is still a decent hour for bed. Tucking him in under the blankets (including one extra new quilt that Junmyeon had recently bought for him) and fluffing his pillows, Jongdae is hit with another coughing fit that folds him up on the bed, one hand pressed to his aching muscles.

“I’ll get you some hot water,” Junmyeon announces even though Jongdae is unable to respond. He scampers to Jongdae’s small kitchen quickly, rattling his few belongings around to find his kettle and put it on the old stovetop to wait.

He hears Jongdae finally stop coughing in the next room with a little relief, a small groan coming from him after.

“I don’t need it, Junmyeon.” Jongdae’s voice isn’t loud, but it carries into the nearby room easily.

“Quiet down,” Junmyeon replies, preparing a large mug from Jongdae’s high cabinets. “It will soothe your throat.”

He removes the kettle, just starting to whistle, and pours some of the water into the mug. He walks back over to Jongdae’s side slowly as to not spill any and scald himself. “Tomorrow I will buy you some teas. At the very least, soothe your aching throat.”

Jongdae sighs, but takes the mug anyway with two hands, one with a handkerchief gripped tightly in it. “You spoil me too much,” Jongdae says before blowing on the water lightly, taking a tiny sip to test it.

“Someone has to worry about you,” Junmyeon says in a soft but stern voice. “And it obviously has to be me.”

“Someone has to keep you busy,” Jongdae replies immediately, short laugh breaking off into another coughing fit. Junmyeon reaches out, encouraging him to take another drink of his water. 

“Hush,” Junmyeon whispers. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here if you wake up.” He takes the mug away from Jongdae, clearing a spot for it on the bedside table so it’s within his reach, and pushes so Jongdae is leaning back against his pillows.

Jongdae looks like he wants to fight for a moment, but is too tired to at the same time. He shuts his eyes and drops his head into the pillows. 

After running a hand through his hair and pulling the blankets up over his chest, Junmyeon moves away from the bed to sit at Jongdae’s desk. It’s still too early for him to be in bed, but he has no real work to occupy himself with either. It seems like no time passes at all before Jongdae is snoring lightly.

Moving back to the side of the bed, Junmyeon moves slowly as to not disturb Jongdae at all. He shifts Jongdae’s arms gently to place them under the blanket as well, removing the handkerchief from his loose fist and tossing it aside. He stops to look over Jongdae’s face after, looking peaceful in his sleep, but weak and ill. 

His face is twisted in worry still as he starts to move away, freezing when the handkerchief he’d tossed aside catches his eye again.

Picking it up gently, it unfolds from the wrinkled ball Jongdae had pressed it into with his fist. Junmyeon knows he’d been coughing into it earlier because he’d complained about using his bare hands before then. Junmyeon sees, almost right in the center of the white cloth, several small red spots of blood soaked into it.

His already unrelenting worry multiplies at the sight, feeling almost sick from it. He knows that Jongdae had very purposely been trying to hide this from him and that doesn’t help at all. Junmyeon’s mind jumps to the many other symptoms that Jongdae could be trying to hide and the thought alone scares him.

He tries to resettle himself at the desk for a while, near enough where he can watch Jongdae as he sleeps, but he gets too restless. He moves to the kitchen, shuffling around quietly and tidying, thinking again of different job positions that could best fit Jongdae.

———

“I don’t need to see a doctor,” Jongdae whines despite actually looking worse than when he’d gone to sleep.

Junmyeon pulls on his arms, making him sit up in bed. Jongdae flops against his side, radiating heat from the fever he’d rolled into overnight.

“I saw your handkerchief, Jongdae. You coughed up blood yesterday.”

“I was going to-“ Jongdae breaks off to cough hoarsely. “To tell you.”

Junmyeon pulls the blankets away from Jongdae to find his clothes nearly soaked through with sweat. He curls up into a ball against Junmyeon’s side, whining again. “Cold,” he cries.

With Jongdae so close, Junmyeon can tell that his temperature is dangerously high. He scoops him up easily, heart aching when he feels that he’s even thinner than the last time Junmyeon had complained. With winter coming as quickly as it had, bringing the multiple layers of clothes with it, even indoors, Junmyeon had hardly noticed. 

There’s no time to get Jongdae to a doctor, and Junmyeon carries him easily to the bathroom. He’d seen this done before when he was much, much younger in a country far away from his current one, and hoped that it would work now as it had then.

Running the cold tap installed over Jongdae’s small bathtub, Junmyeon waits, holding Jongdae in his arms. When it’s filled somewhat, he gently and carefully lays Jongdae inside.

Jongdae jerks and whines unhappily, arms clinging tightly around Junmyeon’s shoulders. Hushing him quietly, Junmyeon sets him in all the way and lets him go. Jongdae lays back against the side of the tub, pressing his face to the cool side of it. His hair is soaked with sweat as well now as he shakes like a leaf in the water.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” Junmyeon whispers. He walks quickly from the room, rolling his sleeves up and digging into one of his coat pockets for several coins.

Rushing out to the front door of Jongdae’s apartment, Junmyeon calls a boy of about ten or eleven over to the door. “Run and fetch a doctor, quickly bring him here,” he tells the boy, shoving two of the coins into his hand. “Lead him to apartment three.”

The boy runs off after a short nod, and Junmyeon hurries back to Jongdae’s side, turning off the water which now comes to his belly. Reaching around, he finds a small cloth and wets it, pressing it to Jongdae’s temple and forehead gently.

Jongdae moans quietly, eyes coming to focus on Junmyeon’s face for just a moment.

“How are you feeling?” Junmyeon asks, wetting his cloth again and bringing it to Jongdae’s neck.

“Mm,” Jongdae grunts. His breathing is slightly labored, but Junmyeon puts that up to the shivering rather than anything else. 

Junmyeon continues pressing the cloth to Jongdae’s face, neck, and chest until the doctor arrives, by which point the water has come to a more bearable temperature. Jongdae lays still against the side of the tub, damp cloth laid out over the top of his head.

“You got his fever down just fine, young man,” the elderly doctor says to Junmyeon after checking the thermometer he removed from Jongdae’s mouth. “That was some quick thinking.”

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Junmyeon shrugs. “Instinct, I guess…” He trails off quietly. “Will he be okay?”

“Oh I think he should be fine in just a few days, these things come and go,” the doctor says, putting his tools back into his travel bag.

This is the last response Junmyeon wants to hear. He’d hoped a doctor would be more concerned, like him, not encourage Jongdae to continue to minimize his symptoms.

“Don’t you think it could be something more serious?” he presses, trying to keep the doctor near. “What about that plague?”

“Oh, no, no,” the doctor says, almost laughing. 

“Yesterday he coughed up blood,” Junmyeon says next, hoping for some more helpful input.

“Yes, well,” the doctor starts casually. “You did say he’s been coughing for several weeks and his throat looked quite raw when I checked. I’ll prescribe something that should help, but I wouldn’t fret too much.”

Junmyeon sighs, feeling relieved. “Thank you, doctor.”

“Not at all,” the doctor says. “You can come grab his medication tomorrow morning.”

Shutting the door after the doctor, Junmyeon shuffles quietly back to the bathroom. Jongdae is still in the tub, looking weak and tired, but smiling.

“I told you it was nothing to worry yourself about,” he says, teasing.

“Nothing to worry--” Junmyeon cuts himself off, exasperated. “Jongdae your fever was so high this morning.”

Jongdae stops smiling, looking unusually serious. “I know.” He looks away from Junmyeon, damp cloth still spread out over his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Bending over to take the cloth off his head and smooth Jongdae’s hair out, Junmyeon kisses him very lightly. “I forgive you,” he says, relieved that Jongdae seems almost back to normal. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes and back into bed,” he declares, standing straight and moving to dig through the few drawers of clothes Jongdae has.

He chooses something warm, but loose enough to not suffocate in heat, before he walks back to the bathroom where Jongdae is standing in the bathtub, squeezing water out of his shirt.

“Just strip, leave those in the water,” Junmyeon says over his shoulder as he grabs a large towel. He hears Jongdae’s shirt land with a wet smack in the water.

He helps a naked Jongdae out of the bathtub then, holding him until he’s steady on the floor and then drying him off. Like this, with Jongdae right in front of him and undressed, Junmyeon can see just how much weight he has lost in recent months.

Jongdae shivers dramatically, little bumps running all along his legs and arms. “I did not enjoy that at all,” he says, helping Junmyeon dry his hair and face off. 

“Nor did I,” Junmyeon says, giving Jongdae a serious look. He drops the towel onto the floor and helps him dress slowly. In a move that surprises Jongdae, he scoops him back into his arms and carries him back to bed.

“I’m not completely helpless,” Jongdae says along the way. It’s a weak protest. “I can actually walk.”

Junmyeon pointedly ignores the comment, dropping a dry and warm Jongdae into his bed and pulling the blankets back up around him. Jongdae whines when Junmyeon moves to stand. 

“I’m still cold,” he pouts just slightly, knowing Junmyeon’s weaknesses. “Please stay.”

He tugs on Junmyeon’s arm lightly and he gives in easily, joining him under the sheets. Jongdae rests along his shoulder and chest, eyes drooping comfortably and sleepily. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly.

Junmyeon presses a soft little kiss to the top of Jongdae’s still slightly damp hair. “I love you,” he whispers back, body relaxing for the first time in what feels like years. Jongdae hums happily.

———

Months pass easily without incident for Jongdae, the medication the doctor gave him working wonders to soothe his throat. His cough, while not completely gone, no longer wracks his entire body, which allows his muscles to relax and become less sore. 

The new year comes, bringing even more frigid weather than they’d had already. They celebrate alone, quietly, sharing a bottle of new wine between them.

“1838,” Jongdae says wistfully. “Do you think it will be a good year?” He looks over at Junmyeon. They’re at his apartment for once, it’s more spacious and expensive, with actual divisions between all his rooms. He has an actual couch and they’re both sat on it, squeezed together under one blanket to watch the snow fall heavily through his window.

“I think it will be a great year,” Junmyeon answers with a warm little smile, cheeks reddened from their drinks. 

Jongdae coughs a couple times and clears his throat, leaning into the warmth of Junmyeon’s side. “I think so, too,” he says softly. 

“How have you been feeling?” Junmyeon asks, aiming for casual but sounding as concerned as always. They both had been busy recently, not seeing much of each other for several weeks, something Junmyeon truly hates to deal with when he has to constantly worry if Jongdae will take care of himself or not.

“Fine,” Jongdae answers easily. “I got more of my medication and the doctor says my throat is healing.” 

“Bed rest?” Junmyeon asks, making Jongdae laugh at him.

“No bed rest, I’m allowed to work.” His fingers curl against Junmyeon’s side, tickling lightly. “I’ve been getting plenty of sleep, I promise.”

He kisses Junmyeon softly once, twice, smiling happily.

“You’re still too thin,” Junmyeon complains with a slight pout that Jongdae also kisses. Held together on the couch as they are, Junmyeon can feel the curve of Jongdae’s spine and the press of his ribs against his skin like he couldn’t have several months before. “I don’t like it.”

He buries his face into Jongdae’s neck, nose cold but lips warm and pressing. 

Jongdae laughs breathlessly against Junmyeon’s shoulder, letting him kiss happily.

“Do you think-” Junmyeon pauses for another kiss, closer to Jongdae’s ear. “-you’ll publish your book this year?”

Jongdae freezes but doesn’t pull away, confused. “Which book?”

“That one I found before, with the poems.” Junmyeon’s voice is soft, right next to Jongdae’s ear. By the pause before any reply starts, Junmyeon knows he’s struggling to absorb the actual words he’s speaking.

“Not likely,” Jongdae says finally. “There’s still a lot of changes to make.” He runs his hand over the collar of Junmyeon’s shirt slowly, only just brushing against a collarbone. “I’m starting something new,” he adds almost as an afterthought.

Junmyeon makes a soft questioning noise, hands against the buttons of Jongdae’s shirt.

Jongdae hums a little. “About immortality.” Junmyeon freezes instantly. “That one night, you asked what I thought about having us forever -you might not even remember- it struck something.”

“Can I see it?” Junmyeon pulls away from Jongdae to ask.

Jongdae shakes his head. “Not yet.” He smiles his soft smile.

He laughs when Junmyeon whines at him a little, breaking off slowly to look thoughtful.

“Does that make you my muse, then?” he asks, eyes lighting up the way they always do when he gets to tease. “I think it doe- mmpf!” He’s cut off in an instant, voice muffling against Junmyeon’s lips in a sudden kiss. He mumbles Junmyeon’s name, eyes wide from shock, but gives up, falling into the kiss in the next instant. He smiles against Junmyeon’s mouth as his hand moves to hold Junmyeon’s head, blunt fingertips brushing into the trimmed hair at the back of his head.

———

Junmyeon is back at his own home, his real home which he’s had for centuries now, humming quietly to himself. Now several weeks into the new year, Jongdae’s health has been looking much improved, though Junmyeon has still been keeping a very close eye on him. It leaves him pleased, content. 

Lately, Jongdae has been writing near constantly, as far as Junmyeon has seen. Even in bed, where he would never dare bring ink near before, he’s scribbling notes and thoughts and lines. He shushes Junmyeon every time he asks what he is working on, but he knows it’s that new work he had mentioned.

It’s almost funny to think about. Jongdae writing about some kind of immortal world he’s dreamt up while Junmyeon is actually living in one. It makes him wonder even more how to tell him the truth. When and how to bring it up. What to say.

His mind wanders back to Jongin then, thinking to himself about how he must be doing, how things are with Sehun. He makes a mental note to check up on his friend soon.

At the moment, though, he’s free from work and stress, taking the rare occurrence to relax. He has an upcoming date with Jongdae to prepare for. He plans to surprise him with tickets to a new show that Jongdae had shown interest in while at dinner. The tickets are already in the inside pocket of his coat now. He smiles, imagining Jongdae’s face when he pulls them both out.

The image of Jongdae’s face keeps him going through the time leading up to their date, which seems to crawl at a snails pace, the day dragging out and leaving Junmyeon impatient enough that he ultimately decides to go to Jongdae’s a bit earlier than he normally would. The two could always enjoy some conversation before they needed to leave for dinner. He knows Jongdae would never complain about spending even more time together.

Blinking himself in an instant to an alleyway near Jongdae’s apartment, he makes his way easily into his apartment building and knocks on his door, waiting cheerily.

There’s no sign of an answer after a moment and he knocks again, calling Jongdae’s name quietly. He presses his ear to the door and hears some vague sounds from inside, light shuffling of feet, but it’s a drawn out moment before the door moves, opening a crack.

Jongdae peeks out first and then sighs, pulling the door open the rest of the way. He looks terrible, ill all over again. His skin is pale and he looks weak, exhausted. It makes Junmyeon reach out instantly to help support him where he stands.

“I don’t think I can go out tonight,” Jongdae says with a soft voice and apologetic face. “I’m sorry--”

Junmyeon interrupts to hush him, walking with him back to bed. He’s alarmed, but manages to keep his voice calm and soothing. “Dinner doesn’t matter, you need to rest and get well.”

“I’ve been so tired all day,” Jongdae groans once he’s laying back in bed. “Could just barely come answer the door.”

“You’ve got a fever,” Junmyeon whispers when he runs a hand over Jongdae’s forehead. He almost laughs at the look Jongdae gives him. “A mild one. No bathtub.”

He stands from the bed and Jongdae grabs his hand weakly. “Please stay,” he says, sounding pitiful.

“Nothing could make me leave, Jongdae,” Junmyeon assures him, patting his hand softly. “I’ll be right back.”

Walking quickly to Jongdae’s bathroom, he wets a small cloth in the sink and wrings it out before bringing it back to the bed and draping it across Jongdae’s forehead. “Try to relax some,” he says, quiet. “Sleep if you can.”

Jongdae shifts in bed, looking like it takes all of his energy to do so. “I’m sorry,” he says. Junmyeon shakes his head quickly. “Our dinner.”

“Dinner isn’t important,” Junmyeon insists with a soft smile. “We can have dinner when you’re well again.”

Nodding slowly, Jongdae closes his eyes but doesn’t fall asleep, just allowing his fatigue to lay him flat for the moment. Junmyeon doesn’t leave his side once, running his hand over his hair in a comforting gesture. He wonders about Jongin once again. 

———

After a full week of rest with no significant signs of improvement from Jongdae, Junmyeon is bordering on frantic again.

“Just call for the doctor again,” Jongdae says weakly one morning while Junmyeon is helping him sit to drink water. “He can prescribe something new.”

“I will,” Junmyeon responds decidedly. “I will call for the doctor and I have- some errands to run. I hate to leave you even for a moment but--”

Jongdae grabs his hand to make him stop fretting. “Go out, you’ve hardly left my side all week. At least bring some changes of clothes here for yourself.” He laughs weakly and lays back on the bed. “I can handle a doctor alone, I promise.”

Junmyeon agrees to leave, reluctantly, but does so quickly. Paying another young boy on the street to bring the doctor back for Jongdae, he turns a sharp corner into an abandoned side street and blinks himself away.

Rather than go home, he goes to Jongin’s house, whispering small prayers to himself that he will be there.

Jongin’s home is much smaller than his own, more humble. He’s been around for less time, so it makes sense. For someone working in his position, it’s actually very nice.

He’s greeted before he even reaches the front door by someone he vaguely recognizes, but does not know the name of, leaving Jongin’s house alone. 

“He won’t answer the door, but you can go right in,” the man says. “He’s been useless lately, moping like he is.” He looks irritated but not angry, like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Junmyeon gives an acknowledging nod and continues on, walking straight into Jongin’s house like the man had told him to. He finds Jongin easily, slouched on his couch in his living room looking messy and unshaven.

“What are you doing?” Junmyeon asks. His voice isn’t accusatory, but nor is it full of concern.

Jongin jumps, seemingly shocked out of his bored trance. He turns around, sitting up a little straighter when he sees who is talking to him.

“Um--” he starts, stuttering. “I- I just…. I guess.” He sighs heavily and his body droops again. “Sehun said no. Now if I even try to mention it he gets angry at me.”

Junmyeon feels like the breath is sucked out of his body suddenly, unsure of what emotion exactly he is feeling. He moves slowly, sitting on the couch so he’s facing Jongin.

“He won’t listen to _reason_ ,” Jongin grumbles. “He’ll die and he just thinks I’ll live forever not dying inside because of it.” He looks at Junmyeon with sad eyes. He’s clearly been dwelling on this turn for some time now. “I’ve explained to him a thousand times. I see love and I see the connection that exists between us. Maybe he doesn’t believe me…”

Junmyeon clears his throat and swallows roughly, struggling to find the words to voice his thoughts to Jongin. “It’s still possible,” he starts. “It’s possible for you two to be together as equals.”

Jongin looks confused, shaking his head slightly in a lack of comprehension. “There’s no way he will change his mind.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Junmyeon pauses with his hands gripped together in his lap. “You could change. You could give this up.”

For a long time, the room is completely silent, Jongin and Junmyeon staring at each other. Junmyeon’s face is carefully blank while Jongin looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Shocked, but not upset.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he says finally. 

“Well, you’ve been quite fixated on having Sehun forever, of course you didn’t,” Junmyeon says lightly. “I’m not telling you what to do, it’s just a thought. I’ve entertained it as well, but--” He shakes his head, cutting himself short.

“Is something wrong?” Jongin asks, shifting in his seat.

Junmyeon bites at the inside of his lip and scratches the side of his nose.

“Jongdae is sick. I think it’s worse than he’s letting show,” he says, finally. It’s the first time he’s verbally revealed his concerns and it feels like a weight settling in his chest. Like saying them confirms them. “I think it may be serious.”

Jongin looks at Junmyeon with sympathy. “I had no idea. How long has he been sick?”

“Months, at least.” Junmyeon sighs and wrings his hands in his lap again. “It comes and goes but there hasn’t been much improvement.”

“I’m sorry.” Jongin rests one hand solidly on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “I can only imagine. If Sehun were sick, I would be a mess.”

Junmyeon nods, but Jongin is no longer looking at him. He’s staring thoughtfully at nothing, eyes unfocused.

“I’m going to think about what you’ve said today,” he says, eyes focusing back in on Junmyeon’s face. “Come visit again. You can talk to me about Jongdae. I want to know how he’s doing too.”

Junmyeon nods again. “Of course, I’ll visit again. You should get out too though.”

“I should shower first.” Jongin looks down at himself and laughs a little. “I will. You go back to Jongdae.”

———

Junmyeon returns as quickly as he can to Jongdae’s side, bringing with him several changes of clothing and new bags of food to restock the apartment a bit. It had been getting quite bare with Junmyeon so reluctant to leave. Thankfully, Junmyeon’s determination to stay directly next to Jongdae is evenly matched by his need to keep Jongdae fed and somewhat healthy.

“How was the doctor’s visit?” he asks while he refolds the clothes he’d brought with him, setting them into an empty drawer in Jongdae’s dresser.

“It was fine,” Jongdae answers, too short. “Are you folding your underwear?”

Ignoring the attempted change of topic, Junmyeon turns after he drops his last shirt into the drawer. “What did the doctor say?”

Jongdae sighs heavily at Junmyeon and makes himself cough a little bit. “I’m sick, basically. That plague, I guess. He said it’s being called Tuberculosis now.”

When Junmyeon drops heavily into the chair at Jongdae’s desk, it’s like his ears are ringing from the words. Junmyeon knows what this means. He just feels that it’s a blessing he doesn’t see people’s timelines like he knows others do. He sees numbers though, a quota of sorts, expected deaths within a set amount of time. Anytime this plague rolls through, the numbers skyrocket.

“He said my case is not too bad though!” Jongdae pushes on, trying to convince both of them to not worry. “The fatigue makes it look worse than it is, really.”

“But you- you’re ill.” Junmyeon’s voice is small and quiet. “Dangerously ill.”

“You are too worried, Junmyeon,” Jongdae almost whispers back. He waves his hand so Junmyeon will come to him, pulling him so he’s sitting on the bed. “The doctor says there are scientists working on some miracle cure. I can make it to then.” He grabs both of Junmyeon’s hands, sitting up so they can be face to face. 

Junmyeon pulls one hand away to cup the side of Jongdae’s face, one thumb brushing along a cheekbone that, previously quite defined, is now on the verge of gaunt. 

“I can’t live without you,” he says finally. It hurts knowing that Jongdae can’t begin to understand how much he really means that.

Squeezing the hand he’s still holding onto, Jongdae smiles, leaning into Junmyeon’s light touch. “You don’t have to live without me, I’m not going anywhere.” He grabs the hand from his face and kisses the palm once.

“Will you get better?” Junmyeon asks, trying to sound hopeful.

“It’s possible, I think,” Jongdae starts with a tiny half shrug. “The doctor said if I get worse, though, there are some hospitals opening up in the city dedicated to this. Sanitariums with staff specialized in helping the infected.”

“Rooms cramped with rows and rows of ill people and overworked, outnumbered staff.” Junmyeon shakes his head rapidly. “Absolutely not. I will help you right here at home. I will bring a specialized doctor to you if I need to.”

Jongdae laughs even though his eyes are tired and dark, curling over into a coughing fit that he doesn’t completely pull away from, instead leaning his forehead on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“You know, it’s not all bad.” Jongdae is quieter, tired. “Most people seem to have a year or more before anything changes. Time we can enjoy together while we have it.”

“The blink of an eye,” Junmyeon says before he can help himself. He rests his cheek against Jongdae’s head a moment later where he still rests, wrapping an arm around to pull him closer.

They’re both quiet for a stretch, but Jongdae finally speaks again. “I’m scared, too, Junmyeon, but I don’t want to give up at the very beginning.”

Junmyeon kisses Jongdae’s head. “We won’t give up,” he promises. “I won’t give up.”

———

The time after Jongdae’s diagnosis is, surprisingly, not very somber. Spring begins to melt away the long winter and the days grow longer. Though Junmyeon could easily allow himself to fall into sadness, Jongdae will never let him. He often then feels guilty for forcing the half of the partnership in failing health to be the more hopeful one between them. 

He wants to believe things will be okay, but he can’t fool himself. So he spends every moment plotting and planning how he will get Jongdae into a new job. How he will make Jongdae immortal too.

In the meantime, they spend every waking moment together. Jongdae is stuck in bed more than ever, some days they read together or play chess, but other days Jongdae is too sapped of energy to do even that.

He continues to write, though, determined to finish with his project before he runs out of time. He often writes on his own, propped up in bed by all their pillows scribbling notes. Junmyeon finally gets to hear what the story is about when he has to help by writing exactly as Jongdae dictates.

An immortal man falls in love with a mortal woman, but it is against the law for them to be together. He chooses love, risking everything he has to be with her. He’s stupid, Jongdae says one afternoon while they’re writing together.

“Would you want that more? To live forever?” Junmyeon asks.

He’s given a funny little side glance from Jongdae where he rests with his small bound book for notes. “Ask the dying man if he wants to live forever, very nice.”

“Stop,” Junmyeon says sharply, as he always does if Jongdae mentions death around him. “I just mean- Never mind.” He sighs heavily.

“If I were him?” Jongdae fills in the thought for him. “Maybe not. Living forever with no one would be worse than dying with someone you love, I suppose.”

“What about living forever with someone you love?” Junmyeon asks.

Jongdae snorts which makes him cough several times. “A happy ending?” He shakes his head. “They will both die.”

There are frequent doctor’s visits that Junmyeon uses as time to run errands and work tiny steps at a time toward his ultimate goal. He grabs many papers from his own office one such afternoon, scanning an updated list of opening positions, much shorter than the first one.

Another afternoon, he searches out several of the people on the list, growing even more distressed when they all inform him that they either have apprentices or chosen successors.

He tries hard not to grow frantic, but a month passes and spring finally breaks into full blossom without any news from those he had reached out to.

Jongdae seems even more tired than he had been before. He writes less and sleeps more. Their normally long chats are much shorter, spent with Junmyeon insisting on feeding Jongdae instead of joking or news.

When he starts waking up with fevers again, Junmyeon’s worry consumes him.

He does everything he can, calling the doctor for some relief, cool cloths over Jongdae’s head and chest, but the help all seems minimal at best. Some days are awful, with Jongdae delirious at best, but some days they seem to break and Jongdae can interact more.

“I’m going to stop this, I swear,” Junmyeon says one late night spent wiping Jongdae’s now grown out hair away from his eyes with a damp cloth.

Jongdae smiles at him, but his eyes are somewhat unfocused, he looks exhausted. “You can’t,” he says, resignation in the words stabbing into Junmyeon sharply. “I’m so happy you’re here still, with me like this.”

“I promised,” Junmyeon feels himself on the verge of tears, fighting to hold them back. “I will stop this. I just- a little more time.”

“Don’t give yourself false hope,” Jongdae says. He isn’t being pessimistic or dramatic, as he hadn’t been at any stage of his illness. Jongdae has simply remained determined to stay honest, especially with Junmyeon. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Several tears finally fall down Junmyeon’s cheeks and he laughs sadly. “A little late for that,” he sniffles.

Jongdae reaches out, pulling Junmyeon down into several short, small kisses. Holding him close to wipe at his eyes. 

“How are you so- so calm,” Junmyeon asks, taking in a shaky little breath. 

“I’m not scared,” Jongdae answers. Even he looks a bit shocked by the truth this time. “I’m happy. I’m with you. I hate to be hurting you but if it has to happen, I’m glad I’m not alone.”

Junmyeon peppers even more little kisses across Jongdae’s lips and cheeks. “I love you,” he says without pulling fully away from Jongdae. “I won’t let you-” he chokes, still physically unable to voice any hints of death. “You should rest some more.”

When Jongdae falls asleep, he’s still flushed and feverish. Junmyeon simply sits and watches him for a while. He’s gotten into the habit recently of watching his chest rise and fall, a small reassurance every night. 

He stands after a moment, however, determined to end this suffering once and for all.

He blinks himself away, appearing at Jongin’s house once again and knocking on the door loudly. He answers after a moment, looking happier than Junmyeon had seen him in months.

“Junmyeon!” He exclaims with a wide smile. “I’m so glad you came, I’ve been wanting to see you.” He pulls Junmyeon into the house by his arm, stopping in the entryway. “How is Jongdae?”

Junmyeon shakes his head but is looking at the mess around him. “Not very well, actually,” he pauses to look back at Jongin. “What is happening here?”

“I’m leaving,” Jongin says, still wearing that ridiculous smile. “I’m giving it all up for Sehun, like you said. We’re going to live together, travel some, I hope.”

“You’re going to go back?” Junmyeon is shocked at the sudden confession. “You’re going to be mortal?”

Jongin nods excitedly. “It’s already set into motion.”

“But you’ll die…”

“I’ve thought about it.” Jongin shrugs lightly. “I think one full lifetime with Sehun is better than a lot of lonely ones after he’s gone.”

Junmyeon is struck with the familiarity of the statement to what Jongdae had said that afternoon that seems so long ago now.

“That’s what I’ve wanted to see you for,” Jongin continues before Junmyeon can reply. “I want to help you.”

“Help me?” Junmyeon asks quietly.

“With Jongdae. I know he’s ill and unlikely to recover. I’ve heard rumor that you’ve been visiting others to ask about their successors.” Junmyeon looks away, nodding some. “I want Jongdae to have this position.”

Junmyeon opens and closes his mouth several times, unsure of what to say or do.

“I’ve already decided,” Jongin says, face determined. “I can file it as soon as you agree. It will take some time, but once Jongdae agrees, it should happen quite quickly.”

“Jongin I- don’t know what to say.” Junmyeon is quiet, trying to think of any words to express the swell of gratitude in him. He’s already trying hard to not cry again. “You’re saving him.”

“You don’t deserve to lose him like this,” Jongin says. His smile is still there, but he’s calmed down some. He makes a little surprised noise when Junmyeon wraps him in a tight hug.

“I won’t forget this.” Junmyeon wipes his face over Jongin’s shoulder and sniffles once. “Not ever. Thank you.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Jongin pats Junmyeon’s back once. “You should go. Go tell Jongdae. Don’t burden him with details.”

Junmyeon says a final thank you and goodbye, trying his hardest to keep all of his tears from falling, and blinks himself back into Jongdae’s apartment away from the main room. He hears coughing and a little groan and rushes back into the room.

“Where were you?” Jongdae asks instantly from the bed, trying to sit himself up. “I called your name.”

Moving quickly to sit next to Jongdae, Junmyeon helps to support him, grabbing his glass of water for him to help. “I was in the bathroom, I didn’t hear you,” he lies. “It’s the middle of the night, you should be asleep.”

“You’re still dressed?” Jongdae asks, confused.

Holding Jongdae close again like this, Junmyeon can feel his fever is back once more. He lays him back down against his pillows and sets his water aside again. 

“Sleep now,” he whispers. “A few more hours. We have big news in the morning. You need to rest.”

Jongdae nods once, eyes already closed again. Junmyeon sits next to him for the rest of the night with no sleep.

By the time morning arrives, Jongdae’s temperature has spiked again and he’s making little noises in his sleep.

Junmyeon tries to gently shake him awake and only receives a groan in response. Ideally, Jongdae would be awake and aware for the conversation he wants to have, but waiting for that to happen could take too long. He shakes him again and Jongdae blinks blearily at him, almost one eye at a time, groaning again.

“Jongdae, are you awake? Are you listening?” Junmyeon helpfully tilts Jongdae’s head so he’s looking at him.

He makes a small noise of acknowledgement, squinting up at Junmyeon. “Dizzy,” he mumbles.

“You can close your eyes,” Junmyeon responds. Jongdae instantly does, relieved. “Just listen to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you this for more than a year. I’m immortal. Fate isn’t some invisible force humans made up, it’s real. We work and we live forever. You- you can be a part of it. You can work with me and live forever too, if you want. You just have to say yes.”

He knows it’s long and rambling, and he can see on Jongdae’s face he’s barely comprehending it all. He even looks like he’s started falling back into his sleep.

Junmyeon shakes his shoulders again. “Jongdae, you have to answer now, do you want this job?”

Jongdae’s eyebrows twitch minutely. “Job?” He sounds incredulous, trying to squint his eyes open again.

“Just say yes, please,” Junmyeon begs. He knows it’s not how things should go. He’ll be questioned thoroughly, he’s sure. Coercion and manipulation, accused of manipulating Jongin, not to mention selfishness.

He doesn’t care. He knows to expect it. 

“Yes?” Jongdae asks, still confused. “Yes.”

“Yes, you want it?” Junmyeon presses on.

“Yes,” Jongdae repeats obediently. 

Junmyeon sits very still for a moment, trying to sense any changes in the air. This is different to any other agreement he’s been part of. Normally a more formal situation with forms and mutual agreements. There’s no reason it should not work, but he’s still nervous.

All he can do is wait and see. Keep Jongdae alive until something new happens.

“We should have breakfast,” he says more to himself than Jongdae. “You need it.”

———

Junmyeon does not leave Jongdae for three days straight after their agreement is made. He watches him nonstop, waiting for a break in his fever or some significant change, but none seems to come.

Jongdae sleeps a lot and eats a little, mostly by Junmyeon’s hands, and speaks of nothing significant. He’s sore and sad and wants Junmyeon to stay with him.

It’s the middle of the third day and Jongdae is sleeping more peacefully than he had been recently, an opportunity Junmyeon latches onto as his chance to nap as well. His sleeping patterns have been all over the place since he mostly fights his sleep to watch over Jongdae these days.

Being as tired as he is, he doesn’t immediately notice when there’s movement in the bed next to him. Only when he hears Jongdae muttering to himself softly does he really start to wake up.

Jongdae is sitting straight up in bed looking utterly confused. He looks around the room and settles on Junmyeon who is suddenly much, much more awake. He sits up next to Jongdae so quickly he almost makes himself dizzy.

“Are you okay?” he asks slowly, reaching out carefully to rest one hand against Jongdae’s shoulder.

“I don’t- what?” Jongdae looks at Junmyeon with a million questions shown on his face. 

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember..?” Jongdae shakes his head, eyebrows drawn together. “Junmyeon, I’m so confused, what am I supposed to remember?”

"I told you I would stop it,” Junmyeon says, a small smile breaking out on his face. 

“You?” Jongdae sounds even more disbelieving. “What did you do?”

“Do you remember all that stuff I asked you about living forever?” Jongdae nods once. Junmyeon sits, unable to believe that he has to confess everything a second time. “It wasn’t just wondering. And you- you are too, now. Immortal, I mean.”

“You can’t be telling the truth right now,” Jongdae almost laughs. “I must be dead, this is what dying is like?”

Junmyeon actually does laugh at Jongdae. “You’re not dead. You’re not sick anymore. You’ll never be sick again, actually.”

“You’re immortal.” Jongdae’s voice is flat, but the question is still there.

Junmyeon nods. “I tried to tell you many times, honestly. Every time I tried, I would freeze. I wanted you to have a choice in this, but you were _dying_ and I made the decision for you. I- I just. If you were gone I would-”

Holding one hand up, Jongdae gets Junmyeon’s rambling to stop. “I’m not mad at you for saving me, Junmyeon, relax.”

“No?” Junymyeon asks, trying not to sound too surprised. 

“Junmyeon, for the first time in months I don’t feel as if I’d had an unfortunate meeting with a train. I’m absolutely not mad.” He fixes Junmyeon with an unwavering look, only broken after a moment with a small smile.

Relieved, Junmyeon returns the smile. “So, how do you feel?”

Jongdae makes a show of considering the question, raising his knees in the bed so he can wrap his arms around them. He looks back at Junmyeon decisively, eyes wide when he says, “Hungry.”

They both laugh a little, almost like disbelief still. Junmyeon tugs at Jongdae after a moment so he can wrap around him, held close and never wanting to let go. “It makes me _so_ happy to hear that.”

Jongdae slides one hand through Junmyeon’s hair, then across broad shoulders to hold him just as tight. 

“I really am hungry, though,” Jongdae says, laughing again a bit. “And I could use a bath…”

“At my house,” Junmyeon decides for the both of them. “My real house, I can finally take you there. Oh, uh, I have to teleport you…”

“Of course you can teleport,” Jongdae groans a little. “Why should I even be surprised.”

———

Jongdae adapts unexpectedly well to the surprises that keep flowing for a while after his change. Junmyeon’s house provides comfort and his cooks prepare amazing meals that fit his freshly regained appetite. He gains some weight back that he’d lost as well as the color in his face, starting to look like the healthy Jongdae from before.

He keeps his hair that had grown out during the time he was sick, deciding he actually quite likes it a bit longer. He ties it back when he returns to his writing slowly, a look that Junmyeon cannot deny his overwhelming attraction to.

They make love again after so long; Junmyeon as slow and gentle as if it’s their first time all over again. Jongdae teases him for it after, but his words are full of love and the both of them are laughing. 

Jongdae, understandably, is full of questions about this entire new world that Junmyeon answers as honestly and detailed as possible.

He spends a lot of time thinking and reflecting on these changes, so when he first starts to smile less, Junmyeon thinks nothing of it. Jongdae had always been one to spend a lot of his time stuck in his own head just as a writer, and Junmyeon had learned early on that it rarely was a reflection of his mood.

When Jongdae’s appetite begins to noticeably fade again, Junmyeon really starts to worry. He holds Jongdae in bed one morning before he can rush away to shower and dress, wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Are you stressed again?

Jongdae says nothing at first, but when he speaks he sounds genuinely thrown off.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“You've been distracted lately, quiet,” Junmyeon says. “You know I worry.”

Jongdae hums a little in agreement, but it almost comes out like a little laugh.

“I’ve been thinking more about all of this. I suppose maybe I have been stressed…” Jongdae shifts in the bed some but makes no move to roll over.

Junmyeon holds Jongdae a little tighter against his chest. “You know I’ve been around for a long time, right?” He waits for Jongdae’s little nod before continuing. “Anything you go through, I’ve gone through. I want you to talk to me.”

“I know, really, thank you.” Jongdae buries himself against Junmyeon more comfortably. “I’ve been thinking about, I don’t know, my family and stuff…”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says flatly. 

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful for everything you’ve done for me,” Jongdae pushes on quickly. “I am so _so_ happy that I get to have this with you. What you saved me from. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“You’ll miss them,” Junmyeon provides, stating a fact. 

Jongdae nods. “Leaving everything behind like that, I-“ He stops when his voice breaks, taking a shaky breath. “It’s almost like I died anyway.”

“I wish more than anything that we’d been able to do this under different circumstances.” Junmyeon tries hard to not let himself get emotional right along with Jongdae. “I won’t be upset at you for feeling sad about this.”

Jongdae holds Junmyeon’s hand resting against his chest in his own, squeezing tightly. Junmyeon tugs him lightly, encouraging him to roll over and face him with gentle touches. He shifts slowly, bouncing the bed as he rolls over so Junmyeon can finally see him face to face. His nose and eyes are a little pink, but he isn’t crying. He has a shaky little smile, trying to reassure Junmyeon, like always.

“I want you to tell me when you’re sad,” Junmyeon says. He brushes a thumb over Jongdae’s temple, cupping his face. “I want you to think about the things you’ve earned, too.”

Jongdae holds his look steadily, more content, less shaky.

“Think about all the writing you can get done now,” Junmyeon starts, pleased when Jongdae laughs at him a little. “You won’t get sick or hurt. You’ll have-“ he stops then, almost unsure.

“I’ll have you,” Jongdae finishes his thought with a happy little smile. “All of forever living with Kim Junmyeon. Who would’ve imagined.”

Junmyeon’s eyes take in Jongdae’s face slowly, like he doesn’t already have every last detail memorized. “I love you,” he says, smile stretching out over his face. 

“Sorry to worry you,” Jongdae laughs again, at himself this time.

Junmyeon shakes his head, eyes closing for a moment. “I’ll always worry.”

———

“Do you want this one, too?” Junmyeon asks, holding a book out for Jongdae to look at.

Jongdae is standing in the middle of the floor, sorting through clothes to keep and clothes to get rid of. They’d emptied his apartment in a rush, bringing everything to Junmyeon’s place to be sorted through. With Jongdae presumed dead, they knew his apartment would be open to be rented again soon. It all had sat for months waiting for Jongdae to be ready enough.

He turns, taking the book and flicking through a few pages before handing it back to Junmyeon.

“Toss it, it’s not even mine,” he says. 

Junmyeon drops the book into the pile to be thrown out, significantly smaller than the pile to keep. 

“I’ll need another set of shelves in my room for all these,” he says. “Where were these all hidden in your little apartment?”

Jongdae laughs, genuine and loud, shrugging. “They were around.”

Junmyeon smiles back at him, wide and happy. “Are you excited to move?” He shoves another pile of books into a small box.

“ _Oui_ ,” Jongdae answers. He laughs again at the pained face Junmyeon makes. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“I have,” Junmyeon nods. “Alone, though. I hear it’s changed a lot since then.”

“How’s your French?” He asks. He shuffles to pull another box off of the pile, looking away from Junmyeon to open it.

“ _Pas mal_ ,” Junmyeon answers. He holds up another book when Jongdae turns back around. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Jongdae smiles again, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Will you teach me when we get there?” He drops his new box back onto the ground when he finds stacks of papers and envelopes from his desk inside. Junmyeon knows he has no patience to go through each individual paper.

Junmyeon groans. “Living with you speaking French every day, I might not make it through the year.”

Jongdae laughs again, actually surprised at Junmyeon’s funny little flirting. He’d been so delicate with Jongdae while he worked on adapting, stepping carefully for his sake as well as trying to heal his reputation a bit. His changing Jongdae had come as a surprise to many people, some of whom would like to see Junmyeon in a bit more trouble for it.

They’re finally approaching normalcy again and Jongdae couldn’t be happier about it. He’s missed Junmyeon like this. It was his idea to move to Paris. A change, a distraction, a new life to start over completely new again. He’s looking forward to it. He’s looking forward to eternity.


End file.
